[HP] Similar but different

Knox's black chariot flew across the sky, and the first rays of morning light fell on the steep slopes of Little Hangleton.The light mist lingered among the green grass stained with autumn, and at the same time blurred the outline of the magnificent mansion.

In the room on the second floor of the mansion, the last drop of candle tears had just solidified.The curtains are covered, but not tightly, and some floating ash dances quietly in the pouring beam of light, making the full bookshelves by the wall even more mysterious.

At the end of the beam of light, Voldemort leaned back on the high-backed chair, his eyes were slightly closed, and a thick book was spread out on his lap.Few had seen him the way he was now—loose, tired, non-aggressive, with even blue-grey shadows under his eyes.

"Another sleepless night?" someone asked softly.

Voldemort didn't even open his eyes. "Another sleepless night for nothing," he corrected dryly, not without exasperation, to his own.

The voice paused. "There's really no other way to get the soul piece back?"

"No." Voldemort rubbed the place where the bridge of his nose should have been, and irritability welled up in his heart, "How could this happen?"

No one answered, because they all knew why—the Dark Lord had never considered accidental Horcruxes, nor had he considered recovering Horcruxes, and it was only normal to have problems now.

The destruction of the soul in the diary was a foregone conclusion, and Voldemort did not dare to take the rest lightly. "I even considered lurking in Hogwarts—even with Dumbledore—" he grumbled, "but Potter is not a qualified Horcrux. The soul piece on him may not be able to control him in the end." close ones; in fact, he himself could not."

A Horcrux is an extremely dark black magic item; apart from preserving the soul inside, its greatest function is to allow the person who uses it to provide it with all the conditions to survive.

To put it bluntly, a qualified Horcrux has a strong aggressiveness; no matter through coercion, or other things.

"Consciousness control is only the first step." The young voice agreed, with a little imperceptible worry, "but Potter obviously still has an excess sense of justice." It means that the piece of soul is sleeping or dormant.In this state, it cannot be expected to migrate to other places on its own initiative, even by himself.

Voldemort suddenly remembered the debate about the Imperius Curse last night, and couldn't help but snort. "I just don't understand what his naive little head is thinking - Umbridge is neither one of his little friends, nor a member of the Order of the Phoenix, nor even a qualified professor! I helped him avoid punishment, and he actually Accusing me?"

"The sympathy is overflowing, and he is indeed the savior." The portrait helped him finish what he hadn't finished.

"Very stupid," said Voldemort sarcastically, "does he think it will change anything?"

The portrait pondered for a moment. "Maybe our little friends will be fully aware of the need for a solid brain."

"Occlumency?" Voldemort sneered. "If I ask you, Dumbledore's idea is good, but I don't like Potter - from the situation of the first class, Severus can kill him. And, How does a 15-year-old Gryffindor lion know how to hold back emotions?" He was ironic.

Everyone knows that Occlumency is not good with big mood swings, so the portrait pondered for a while. "Speaking of Severus..." he said slowly, "Why did Dumbledore choose him? I don't believe Dumbledore didn't know about Severus' feud with James Potter."

"Perhaps he really believes that people can be changed for the better -" Voldemort spread his hands mockingly, "Old Bee's famous corny argument - because of love!"

"Oh, stop, don't mention those spoilers." The portrait curled its lips and accepted the statement. "In any case, it shows that Severus is deeply trusted by Dumbledore."

Voldemort didn't respond in particular.Another thought vaguely flashed in his mind—Dumbledore might have chosen Snape because Dumbledore thought Snape's Occlumency was particularly good, good enough to offset the disadvantages of those festivals—but soon Killed by him. "The progress of other things is barely acceptable," he said, pondering for a while, "McNeil said he saw giant footprints, and they are almost finding the habitat of those big guys."

"Where are the werewolves?" The portrait raised a little spirit.

"It's still the same," Voldemort replied, impatiently tapping the armrest. "Dumbledore seems to be counting on that Lupine to convince the other werewolves to change...Unfortunately, that's really not to Fenrir's liking."

Mentioning the cruel and bloodthirsty werewolf leader, the two laughed sinisterly together.They discussed some more business until the sun rose higher.

"Besides," the portrait asked knowingly, "since the savior is so righteous, he will also go tonight to write sentences?"

Calling the savior at this time is completely mocking. "Impossible," objected Voldemort, "no matter how stupid he was, he would not have punished himself in that way; especially if he didn't think he was at fault."

"So, that's still helpful." The portrait concluded with some disdain. "He just doesn't want to admit that he accepted help from the enemy—maybe because it's not fair enough in his eyes—it seems that denying it can completely remove the responsibility. As a vested interest, I have to say, his attitude is too much. So high up."

"An ungrateful lion." Voldemort agreed.

"I saw him last night," said the portrait again, with interest. "He put the fake locket in the Room of Requirement."

Voldemort was not surprised. "Has he found the house at last?"

"I think he probably tried to seek Dumbledore's help, but then gave up." The portrait snorted coldly.

The principal's office and the Room of Requirement were on the eighth floor, as Voldemort knew very well.The Savior knew very well that he would not seek help from anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. "Has he found you? Or the diadem?"

The portrait shook his head. "Absolutely no crown," he assured, pausing again, thoughtfully, "but I can't deny that he did look at me."

How could an old picture frame with nothing but a black canvas get special attention amidst the mountain of clutter under normal circumstances?

"A lot of times, I wonder what's the use of the things on some people's shoulders." Voldemort quickly came to the unexpected conclusion that the news leaked, but a smile appeared on his pale skin, " But that's what's interesting."

The portrait nods. "If it weren't for the secrecy involved, this would have been more fun for our little friends." He laughed grimly.

Voldemort's mouth curled into a sharp arc. "It's really a pity." Looking at the portrait, he knew that they were thinking of the same trump card——

The golden boy who is regarded as the savior is actually the Horcrux of the Dark Lord. What will happen if it is made public?

**

Harry's Thursday was as tough as the previous few days.Although he stayed in confinement until midnight on Wednesday night, the mysterious room on the eighth floor took all his energy and time.By the time he had roughly figured out how it opened and closed, it was already late at night.

After dinner, Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, and walked alone to Umbridge's office.He didn't want to go at all, but he had to.Everyone knew he was going to be in detention for the whole week, and Umbridge had refused to change the time for the Gryffindor team's Quidditch tryout on Friday evening, and there was no way he would let him go halfway.

Harry was still a little apprehensive when he opened the door, because he wondered if Umbridge would remember that he slipped away early yesterday.But when he actually saw Umbridge, he realized that his worries were needless.

"You're here, fine, let's start on time."

This sounded normal, but if it was said by Umbridge in a flat to rigid voice, it would be very abnormal.

Harry moved cautiously closer to the desk, watching her carefully.He hadn't seen anyone under the Imperius Curse before, but he began to wonder if ordinary Imperius Curse could be done so thoroughly.

Voldemort declared that it was only a small lesson... a voice whispered in his head.

Can you really believe what the Dark Lord says?Another voice retorted violently.What if there are sequelae?What if the sequelae were discovered?

The first voice was silent for a while, and seemed a little angry.That is, Voldemort himself exposed his existence, what does it matter to me?

Suddenly Harry realized.Since Voldemort didn't want to show up in public, the other party must have calculated the scale before doing anything; he didn't need to worry about IQ and magical skills for the Dark Lord.

Thinking of this, Harry turned his head and stared at the sharp quill on the small table with complicated emotions.

No one would really want this kind of perverted punishment, including him; and he can leave now, as long as he is not discovered by others; during the confinement period, he can hide in the mysterious room on the eighth floor to do his homework; if his thesis is saved, Without the prospect of being locked up again by Snape (Angelina would be pissed if he missed another weekend of Quidditch practice)...

Everything was fine, except that Voldemort brought it to him.

Harry was almost resentful.Before, he'd had to put Umbridge in detention; but now, he'd rather hear her call him "Mr. Potter" in that cloyingly sweet way, and torture him.

Isn't Voldemort a lot of things to do, why should he have a foot in him?Make it look like he took advantage of it!

Harry thought angrily.All day, he tried to avoid thinking about Voldemort, but the fact was too much to control.For example, now, he can't avoid recalling that, in response to his anger, the Dark Lord used a cold and obviously disgusted tone——

"Say it like I'd rather be inside your head."

What do you mean by that?Did Voldemort have to stay in his head?How can one stay in another's head?Because Voldemort was in his head, so they had that link of perceiving each other's thoughts and ideas?

...Wait, Voldemort was really in his head, no matter how much? !

Harry was frightened into a cold sweat by his conjecture.

The author has something to say:

Don't hit me if I get poked at a certain joke in this chapter, it's a fan [serious

grateful:

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